An Ode to Old Homes

by Fayeruz Regan 06.2021

Richmond seems obsessed with protecting its architecture, which might have something to do with what happened on an early spring day more than a hundred years ago.

On April 2, knowing Union forces would soon swarm the city, the Confederate government, with boxcars laden with gold and silver, fled the former capital of the Confederacy on a Danville-bound train. An evacuation was ordered, and as people left the city in droves, warehouses and the arsenal were set on fire to prevent supplies and ammunition from falling into enemy hands. Unfortunately, the winds of early spring ushered the flames to other buildings, and by the end of it, much of Richmond was burnt to the ground, erasing a good portion of its architectural glory. 

Richmond’s been trying to make up for it ever since. 

I’m all for preserving what we can, architecturally. Jackson Ward has the second largest collection of iron work in the country, after New Orleans. The Jefferson Hotel is a treasure, and walking down Monument Avenue during the holidays is a sight to behold. 

When I first moved to Richmond in the 1990s, I was fresh from 1950s tract housing in Northern Virginia. I was in awe of the Fan District, with its herringbone brick sidewalks and iron gates. The front porches seemed to be an extension of the interiors, with pillowed porch swings and water fountains. 

Now I live on the North Side, which has its own love affair with historic homes. At night, I bicycle down Seminary Avenue to gawk at the mansions, with the stately columns and floor-to-ceiling windows. Sometimes the curtains are drawn and I get a rare peek at gallery walls painted teal, and Christmas trees that are nearly twelve feet tall. 

Here’s to houses with radiators—every family’s best friend in the wintertime. I love the way kids can toss their wet gloves and coats on them after a day of sledding, and the gear is ready to go again by morning. Radiators keeps your towels toasty while showering during the cold months. And they’re great at keeping your coffee warm. 

Here’s to the original glass in our window frames, wavy and imperfect. It makes you think of the generations of families before you, who saw the same irregularities. These things inspire us to dig up public records of our homes, where we delight in old black-and-white photos, when our giant magnolias were just saplings. In Bellevue, a friend discovered that Lewis Ginter had planted the Japanese maple in her backyard. Though she has since moved to the country, she returned this year in hopes of retrieving a viable seed pod; she wants to plant a direct descendent from Lewis Ginter’s collection. 

Here’s to the relics that tell us stories from those who lived in our homes before us. The elaborate molding of our doorways hide pencil markings that document the growth of children. Forgotten photos sit in the attic. Looking back at us are faces from strangers who are long gone.  You wonder if there’s anyone alive now who even remembers them. 

My friend discovered a slit in her medicine cabinet, where men could dispose of their razors. They sit piled in the wall of her home and are virtually irretrievable. “His DNA is still in my house,” she says with a shudder. We found vintage bottles in our garage, along with an old Red Ryder BB gun, just like the one from the film A Christmas Story. 

Here’s to old growth trees, creating canopies over our streets like the vaulted gothic arches of green cathedrals, showering with dappled sunlight. 

Here’s to the possibility of hitting the Mother Lode in your own backyard. When the Great Depression struck in 1929, people began hoarding gold bullion, for unlike paper money, gold retained its value. In 1933, Executive Order 6102 forbade citizens from hoarding it, and the government gave itself the power to seize it. President Roosevelt had implemented the order in an attempt to save the economy. Citizens were weary, and sealed their gold into walls, or buried coins in their gardens. 

In 2014, a California couple found $10 million in gold coins buried in their yard, and it happens all the time. Though anyone could find a hidden treasure on their property, you have a greater chance of striking gold if your house was standing during the Great Depression. Consider using a metal detector, it may be worth your while to give your home and property a thorough once-over. If you don’t have one, borrow one. 

Here’s to all of the luxuries that we consider a given in old homes, and may we never take them for granted. Things like hardwood floors and diamond doorknobs, stained glass windows and slate roofs, hand-carved mantelpieces and crown molding. Perhaps most importantly, old homes are special because they’re one-of-a-kind, with a little bit of soul, just like their lucky inhabitants.